Give Me Something To Believe
by rkolove
Summary: Friends with benefits never works. And some of us should know better. WARNING: SLASH. RATED M FOR A REASON!


We all know how much I love a bit of angsty Candy. So here you go, an angst-ridden, smut-riddled Candy one-shot.

**WARNING:** Slash

**DISCLAIMER:** I own neither Randy or Cody. I also don't own the song lyrics at the beginning

Enjoy. x

* * *

Will you tell me once again  
How we're gonna be just friends?  
If you're for real and not pretend  
Then I guess you can hang with me  
**Robyn 'Hang With Me'**

The cab driver pulls over and twists in his seat to tell me how much. I frown and try to lip-read, his voice too heavily accented for me to understand. I fumble for my wallet and stare bewildered at the currency the ATM spat out an hour ago. I take a stab in the dark and pluck out three notes of the highest denomination. My guilt for being an un-cultured bastard heavily compensated it seems, as the driver stares in shock and then hastily stashes the notes into his pocket before I can argue. No change, no surprise.

I fight with the door, the strap of the duffle bag tangling with my feet as I struggle to get it, myself and my backpack out of the door in one piece. Hell if I'm leaving anything behind after the pay day I've just dished out. Slamming the car door behind me, I look up and around. The street is almost empty, a sign that I am way behind schedule.

I've been behind schedule since yesterday – a busted car door meant an emergency trip to the garage, a two thousand dollar bill for both the repair, labour and out of hours service and valuable time on the road lost. I made it home, passed out, only to be woken four hours late by my cell ringing off the hook. Taxi to the airport rocked up half an hour after expected and I managed to miss not one, but two flights before I finally taxied down the runway and knocked back a well-deserved scotch.

I stomp across the pavement and push open the hotel's glass door. The receptionist glances from me to the clock and back to me. I silently beg her to let me check-in. It can't be that late? Does 24-hour check-in not exist this side of the pond? At the back of my mind, I wonder what the hell I'm going to do if I'm refused entry – my phone battery is on it's last legs, not that it matters as I can't seem to get a decent signal anyway.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid we don't have any available rooms."

"No, I've got a room booked."

"Check-in is closed."

"Please, you don't understand! Look," I pull the email print out from my back pocket, and shove it towards her. "I'm with a whole group, they checked in earlier. Can't you just make an exception?"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"For f-"

"Randy?"

I shiver. Turning, I see him standing in the doorway to what, I presume, must be the bar.

How long has it been? One month, maybe two? And I was doing so well.

"What's going on?" He moves towards me. "How comes you've only just got here?"

"I missed my flight."

"Oh. I just thought..."

"I missed the next flight too."

"Right." He stops barely a metre away from me, his fingers running along the edge of the reception desk. I stare at them and then realise what I'm doing. I blush, look away but I know it's too late. He's seen. I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face as I try desperately to act like I don't care what his fingers are doing, where he's staring and why he's even talking to me.

The receptionist chooses this exact moment to pipe up: "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back in the morning to check-in."

"Oh c'mon, he's with me."

My head jerks around and for the first time I catch his eye. Now it's his turn to blush.

"I mean," he coughs, "he's with our group. We all checked-in earlier and we booked out an entire floor and he was supposed to be with us, so you can't tell me that there isn't a spare room."

She frowns, chews her lip. "I guess."

I watch as he flashes his teeth, winks and then leans across the desk and whispers something I don't quite hear. Whatever he says does the trick and a key suddenly appears on the desk along with a resigned mutter about when breakfast is served.

I accept it graciously and turn towards the elevator.

"Wait up!" Cody falls into step with me. "I'm heading to bed anyway."

We wait in silence.

Maybe it's longer than two months. I can't remember – our last tumultuous months together are a blur to me. I remember fragments of arguments, hurling objects in frustration, shouting words that I instantly regretted and the beating my body got from post-argument workouts. Somewhere in all of that we went our separate ways and managed, until now, to avoid each other. I thought it would be easy – how naïve could I be?

The journey up seven floors is more painful than the wait for the elevator. The doors are mirrored and as hard as I try to keep my eyes straight ahead, I can feel him watching my reflection. I drop my gaze to the floor, chew my nail, scuff my sneakers, anything to avoid his gaze directly.

The doors slide open and I grab my bags and head out, leaving Cody to catch up. I glance at the key in my hand and realise I'm heading the wrong way, turn and almost collide into him.

"Randy, wait."

I ignore him and stride off, past the elevator and towards, what I pray, is solitude. I slide the key into the lock and push the door open. Fumbling for the light, I drop my bags and go to close the door, almost trapping Cody's fingers between it and the doorframe.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Seriously, do you not get the hint?"

"This is my room."

I frown. "You mean it's my room."

"That too."

I look around, notice the familiar bag in the corner, the xBox already hooked up to the TV, games scattered across the floor, a bed with a well formed ass print on the cover from where he must have spent most of the afternoon.

"This day just gets better and better," I mutter.

"Don't worry, I'm not exactly happy with this either."

"So you just happened to be heading up here when you saw me? You didn't exactly care to let on about this little arrangement, did you?"

"Not like you had much of choice." He stalks past me into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door.

"I'll be switching tomorrow."

"Good luck with that. I think you've pissed off too many people to find an ally."

I pat down my pockets and pull out a half-empty pack of cigarettes. Dragging the chair that isn't laden with his junk over to the window, I crank it open as far as possible and light up. I hear the shower start up and then a moment later, the bathroom door is pushed to. Like I'd even consider joining him.

Once upon a time, I would have been in there before he'd even turned the shower on. I'd be naked, ready to go, clutching at his ass, pulling him towards me, claiming his mouth. And if truth be known, there's still a part of me that wants that. Just that. I don't want all the bullshit it came with. We did fine before that. A mutual understanding that whatever this was, it was just for fun, for kicks, for when we were horny and alone. Somehow it got out of control. Suddenly we were fucking every night, meeting up during our time-off, making endless excuses to avoid mutual friends, family, just so we could be together.

And then it all went down-hill. The honeymoon period ended as quickly as it begun and we barely exchanged words that were filled with anything other than hate. We didn't hang out. We just fucked. And in the after-math, one of us would sigh or roll away too quickly and we were back to square one.

We fucked up our friendship, by doing just that. We should have known better. We're old enough to have been there, done that and to know what happens in the end. Neither of us can do casual. From the beginning it was anything but. It was intense. Too intense. We should have known. We should have left well alone, brushed it aside, marked the occasion as a mistake, an experiment, as something that should never, ever happen again.

Maybe if we'd been honest with each other, we wouldn't be in this situation. We wouldn't be stomping around, avoiding each other, dealing with awkward silences from not only each other, but our friends, colleagues. But honesty isn't exactly my strong point. And it isn't his either. Too alike for our own good, too head-strong to realise where this was going and too angry with ourselves to find a way back.

I hear the shower cut off and quickly wave smoke out of the window before closing it. I don't need the dramatic lecture that's bound to happen if I get caught. I push the chair back to it's original position and decide the best way to avoid any kind of drama is to climb into bed, pull the covers over my head and pretend to be asleep. I tug my jacket and shirt off, but just as I'm kicking off my sneakers, my fingers already at my pants' buttons, the bathroom door opens and my heart stops.

My presence has obviously been forgotten – Cody stands there, butt-naked, slowly wrapping his towel around his waist, but it's too late. He raises his eyes and sees me, redness creeping up his neck.

I want to look away. But I can't. I know every inch of him, I can remember how it felt to have his body pressed against mine in the most intimate and mundane ways. It didn't matter if we were just fucking or just sitting side by side in a cramped corner of a restaurant, just the graze of his skin against mine would unravel me in an instant.

Screw the consequences.

His mouth feels so good on mine as I push him against the wall. I clutch handfuls of flesh as I desperately try to get as much of him as I can before he pushes me away. Because he's bound to push me away. Right?

I almost jump when I feel his hand slide up my arm, over my shoulder and circles the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. I grope blindly for his other hand, tugging it up above his head. He groans, the vibration sending shivers down my spine. His hand tightens around the back of my neck and I have to fight to free my mouth from his.

He gazes up at me through thick lashes and something flips inside me. I let go of his wrist and take a step back.

"Randy..." His voice is barely above a whisper. "Please..."

I hold his gaze for a moment, thinking it over. Are we about to be victims of our own stupidity all over again? Or will it be different? Is there an alternative ending to the one we fought our way through?

Maybe.

Possibly.

Undoubtedly.

"What do you want, Codes?"

He blinks, chews his lip. "You."

"What do you want from me?"

He reaches out, his fingers sliding around my wrist, pulling me back towards him. He lets his head rest against the wall as he looks up at me, his fingers trailing their way up my arm.

"Everything." he breathes.

"Everything?"

"Everything," he confirms as his lips brush across mine.

Slow was never us. We didn't have time for slow. We did fast. We did frantic. But as his fingers ghost over my neck and down my chest, I can't help but think why we never slowed down before. I clutch at his hips, gradually edging the towel down until I hear it softly hit the ground. His hands trail over my stomach, making me gasp at the tickling sensation. I can feel him grin into the kiss as he slowly finishes un-buttoning my pants.

His mouth slips from mine and I curses as he sucks and bites at my throat, his tongue swirling over my Adam's apple, his hands pushing my pants down until they pool at my feet. He sinks lower, his tongue lapping at one nipple and then the other as I struggle to keep my knees from buckling, my mind clouding as his hands slide over my ass, his fingers dangerously close to making me come undone far too soon.

My hands are on his shoulders as he sinks to his knees, his mouth firmly attached to my right hip-bone, his teeth nipping hungrily at the taut skin. I grope at the back of his head, my fingers tangling in his short hair as he moves closer towards his goal.

A volley of curses leave my mouth as his tongue flicks over the tip of my cock. My grip on his head tightens and I have to brace myself against the wall to stop myself from tumbling forwards on top of him. It's been far too long – I'll be finished in matter of seconds, but I'm beyond caring. All I want is to feel him on me. His mouth closes around the tip this time and my hips buck impatiently. His hands slide up my thighs, grip my hips tightly and hold me still as he pulls away.

"Look at me."

I look, watch as he stares up at me and slides his mouth over me again. He holds my gaze steadily as he takes more and more of me into his willing mouth, his tight throat. His tongue is my downfall. I can feel it working the underside of my length and as much as I want to roll my head back and howl, I can't bring myself to break his gaze. So I watch as he watches me, my breath coming in hard, fast gasps.

He cups my balls, his fingers grazing over them, under them and I can't hold back any longer. In a blur of fuck's, shit's and sweet Jesus fucking Christ's, I see his eyes flick shut as I blow my load. I watch in a daze as he licks his lips and starts a slow crawl back up my body, his the tip of his tongue leaving a sticky trail over my abs.

I can smell myself on his breath as he leans in to capture my mouth. I can taste cum and sweat as he kisses me. I can feel myself hardening all over again. He nudges me towards the bed and I quite happily stumble backwards, pulling him with me. But as the back of my legs hit the frame, I flip him around and push him back. He moves up to the pillows, his legs spreading invitingly as I crawl over him.

I kiss him fiercely, my hands groping for his, pulling them above his head as I slither away and down his taut frame. I re-pay the lip service to his chest, his stomach and then lazily trail my tongue down the underside of his cock. I hear the covers twist in his hands as I move lower and run my hands down his legs. Gripping his ankles I force his knees to bend and spread his legs further apart. My tongue slides over his balls and I hear a gurgled fuck escape his lips.

I pause, wetting my index finger, before tracing his quivering hole. He squirms above me and I decide it would be far too cruel to tease him too much. I push into him, feel him tighten and then relax around my finger. I slide it in further, wiggling the tip, desperate to hit that sweet spot. I must have grazed it as he suddenly jolts and hisses.

"Fuck, Randy."

I smirk, pulling my finger out, swirling my tongue around another and pushing both back in firmly. He gasps and I have to use my other arm to hold him still as he desperately tries to twist down further on my digits. I move them in and out slowly, savouring every moment. Every moan, gasp, cry.

"Please..."

I pull my fingers out and I can almost hear the pout. But I'm not done. Gripping the back of his thighs, I push his legs higher and lean forward, my tongue pressing against the tightness for a second before the tip slips inside. His scream is muffled by the pillows, but it doesn't stop my own cock from jerking to full attention and I know that no matter how slow I go, neither of us will last long.

I can't wait any longer. I pull back, ignoring his whimper, knowing that he'll thank me in a second. I pull him down towards me by his ankles and he instinctively wraps his legs around my waist as I guide my cock towards his entrance. His back arches as I breach him, his hands gripping the headboard as I slide further in to the hilt. I pause, feeling him contract around me. His eyes flicker open and his lips move wordlessly.

"Everything?" I whisper.

He nods. I pull out slowly and then push in once again. His eyes roll back in his head and I collapse on top of him, desperate to feel his mouth on mine. Every time I move out of him, his legs are there to pull me back in, his hips rising to meet mine as we slowly bring ourselves to the edge. My hand grips his chin, forcing his head back so I can suck at the tempting flesh below, whilst his hands slide over my ass, his fingers grazing my crack.

I can feel his cock slide against my stomach and I straighten up, my hand ready to close around his length. But he bats it away, taking it in his own hand and tugging in time with my not-so-slow strokes.

Fast. Frantic.

I watch through half-closed eyes as his hand moves up and down his cock, watch the head start to leak and then spasm as white strands coat his stomach. His back arches and I know I won't last much longer. Gripping his thighs I pound into him harder, until I grunt and crash down on top of him.

His breath is hot and heavy against my cheek. His skin flushed and slicked with sweat. Fingers trails up my spine and I shiver as he kneads the back of my neck. Turning my head to the side, I stare into his hazy blue eyes.

"Friends?"

I shake my head.

"More?"

I nod.

"Everything."

"Everything."


End file.
